Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

.oOo.

The spacious, high-ceilinged room was filled with the sounds of scratching quills and the rustling of parchment. Occasionally, fragments of conversation disturbed the quiet. The smell of old paper, leather, and wood saturated the air. A fire crackled merrily in the crate, and the handful of students who were left hanging around had settled in the soft armchairs around it, their noses buried in whatever book they were reading. Outside, snowflakes were dancing in the soft wind. The windows were frosted over, and dust particles glowed golden in the warm air.

Tony had missed this. He relished the peace of the Hogwarts library. It was the perfect atmosphere for studying, especially when -

“He’s back,” the voice to his left announced.

Especially when a certain quidditch idiot was not present.

Tony closed his eyes for a second before he refocused on his reading, trying to ignore his friend. 

-can only be found in the swamps of southern Brazil. The seeds of the poisonous pelargonium are used as ingredients for Lüdenscheidt’s potions. If collected under the full moon, the seeds are -

“He really is handsome, isn’t he,” Pepper mumbled dreamily. She had her chin in the palm of her hand and stared at a figure in the distance.

Tony reluctantly glanced up from the essay he was writing for Professor Strange. Three tall boys had stepped foot into the library. Their impressive figures threw broad shadows over the bookshelves. Heads turned when they passed, and whispering arose. In their wake, a group of giggling girls entered the scene, and the peaceful atmosphere of the library shattered like an icicle. Tony heaved a sigh as he watched the group proceed out of the corner of his eye.

A silver badge gleamed on the blonde’s chest. It identified him as the Gryffindor quidditch team captain. Behind him trailed a guy with his hair tied back in a bun and his hands deep in his pockets, and another with dark skin and a polite smile. He winked at a girl who waved shyly at him from behind her book. She held it upside down.

Tony rolled his eyes and went back to his studies.

“Please,” he said under his breath. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “He’s average.”

Pepper threw him a look. “Excuse you. Half of the school is in love with him.”

Tony scoffed and turned a page of Advanced Potion Making. He fought hard to keep his face straight. “They only like him because he’s famous.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Well, he is. Steve Rogers plays at the Irish youth national team even though he’s still at school,” the redhead told him. Tony saw her watching the boys out of the corner of his eye. “Besides, I heard them say that he’s a real gentleman. And a good kisser.” She sighed.

Tony paused only briefly in his writing to give his friend a look. “He's famous because he can catch a ball, that's it,” he snarked. “I don’t know why he stayed at school for the holidays anyway, when there are hardly any girls around for him to impress.”

Pepper snorted, but somehow, she made it sound dignified. “Are you jealous, Tony? Your family is one of the most famous of the wizarding world. It’s just because you’re such a nerd that you don’t have your own group of fangirls trailing behind you.”

Tony gave an exaggerated full body shiver. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Pepper tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I heard there were a lot of rumors about the two of you a few years ago... that you were best friends, basically glued together. You know I wasn’t at Hogwarts back then. Why won't you tell me what happened? Did you fight? Did you break up? You know how much i love those stories.” She batted her lashes at him.

Tony flushed and bent low over his parchment. “Please, not this story again,” he replied. “I told you a dozen times already that the time when Rogers and I were friends has long since passed. Now he’s just another hypocritical Gryffindor. I’m surprised he can walk upright with that broomstick up his a-”

“Tony!” Pepper warned. The librarian, Professor Coulson, stalked by, and Tony scored himself a very dirty look.

“Rogers hates my guts,” Tony grumbled when the old man was out of earshot. “He’s got a problem with me, and at some point, he just…snapped.”

Pepper sighed. “You’re never sharing the good stories with me. And here I thought having a gay best friend would be fun.”

Tony looked up from his parchment and gave her the side eye. “Remind me again why I put up with you?”

Pepper snickered. She ruffled his hair teasingly. “I’m the reason you get to all of your classes on time. You wouldn’t survive a single week without me.”

Tony stuck his tongue out, but he knew that she was right, so he refrained from taunting her and attempted to get his hair back under control. Startled, he realized he’d forgotten to add the right way to collect the seeds of the poisonous pelargonium to his essay and went back to add the required information.

“Long story short: Rogers and I don’t get along," he said in the end. "That’s all there is to -”

“Tony!” Pepper gasped. She nudged his elbow, and Tony cursed when he spilled ink over his parchment. She didn't bother to apologize, distracted as she was. “Tony, he’s looking. He’s looking here.”

Tony looked up just in time to spot none other than Steve Rogers staring at him from across the room. When he realized that Tony had noticed, he quickly averted his gaze and signed the red and gold scarf a girl held out to him. Tony pressed his lips together. He clenched and unclenched his fists on top of the table twice for good measure.

"I wish he didn't come here all the time," he grumbled and fished his wand from the pocket of his green and black robes when he could be sure he wouldn't accidentally break anything. He gave it a wave. The ink he'd spilled vanished.

Pepper raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What? Is he making you nervous? You, the great Tony Stark, Transfiguration protégé? Son of the world-famous wand maker and professional know-it-all?"

Tony felt a treacherous flush crawl up his neck. "No," he lied and put his wand back. "His giggling fanclub is annoying. I can't concentrate on my studies. That's all."

"Sure," she drawled but went back to staring at Rogers. "Oh, you're lucky. He's already leaving again."

Tony didn't want to look but found himself unable to resist sneaking a glance again. Rogers had thrown his bag over his shoulder, ready to leave. He made an unnecessary detour through the room to return the book he hadn't even opened and left the library again, the group of girls hot on his heels.

Giggling should be illegal in Tony’s opinion.

The two Slytherins put their chins in their hands and watched Rogers’ blond head disappear around the corner of the hallway outside the library. Tony’s heart jumped in his chest.

By the Heaven's.

He wanted to either push Rogers up against a wall or down a flight of stairs.

.oOo.

White fluffy steam obscured Tony's vision. The floor beneath his feet vibrated gently. Through the thick glass of the window, he heard the faint sounds of the busy station. Platform 9¾ was still packed with people, even though the train was bound to leave any minute now. It was almost 11 am.

Nervous, he clutched the letter he had received for his eleventh birthday three months and two days ago. He bounced his leg. This was the Hogwarts express, wasn't it? He was at the right station, wasn’t he? He was sure those were school robes the other kids were wearing. Or were they?

Jarvis had assured him they were at the right station, and Jarvis was usually right about these things. Tony loved and trusted him, but Jarvis was also a house elf and had never laid eyes on Hogwarts before. Secretly, Tony had been both disappointed and excited when his father had told him that he and Tony's mom wouldn't be able to see him off, and that their old elf would be there to accompany him.

But had Jarvis really brought him to the right station?

Maybe Tony should get off and ask one of the adult wizards just to make sure.

Tony's thoughts were cut short when the door to his compartment suddenly rattled open. He jerked around. Startled, he forgot to breathe for a second as he stared at the newcomer.

Oh?

"Hi," said the strange boy, as if he had not just given Tony a small heart attack. "Can…can I sit here? Please?" He gestured at the free seat across from Tony with a trembling finger.

His voice was timid. He was even shorter than Tony, who was small for his age. A shabby looking trunk waited behind him, and his robes seemed to be second-hand. The boy's hair was a bright blond, and his blue eyes seemed too big for his thin face. He was pressing what appeared to be a sketchbook and a handful of pencils to his chest. Tony saw the corner of a drawing of a broomstick peek out from between the pages.

The boy looked as lost as Tony, and for some reason, that calmed Tony. He scooted over to make space for the other boy and pulled a bag of Bertie Bott's All Flavor Beans from his pocket. He offered them to the other and smiled. "Sure! I'm Tony Stark."

The other sat down. A shy grin appeared on his face, his eyes lit up. He offered Tony a slim hand to shake. "Steve Rogers. Pleasure."

.oOo.

“Good morning, everyone. It is a delight to tell you that I have a surprise for you for this term," Professor Wong welcomed his class back for the first lesson after Christmas. He smiled warmly at them all. His students only ducked their heads and continued to shiver.

The Forbidden Forest was a sea of white tree tips, and the Hogwarts grounds looked eerily blank. Snow had been falling steadily, and the temperatures had dropped significantly since the holidays. The castle was icy, and more magical fires than usual had been lit by the Hogwarts house elves to keep its inhabitants functioning.

The professor however didn’t seem to feel the cold. His smile only broadened as he looked at them.

"Partner work,” he announced happily.

Tony wasn’t the only one who slumped in their seat.

“You gotta be joking,” he groaned quietly.

Tony loathed anything resembling group projects. He worked best if left to his own devices. Partner work meant allowing his frankly brilliant ideas to be watered down for the sake of the group. While his classmates struggled to perform a stunning spell, he completed NEWT papers in his free time or invented new spells. He was this close to finding a way to cure the sniffles. He just needed to get rid of the nasty side effects. The patient's nose turned green. (He'd been running around with a green nose for about a week when he'd first tried it on himself.)

“No, I’m not joking, Mr Stark,” Professor Wong chided, and pointed his wand at the blackboard behind him where the instructions for their next Transfiguration project appeared. “This will be a good chance to prepare for the time after your NEWTs, where you will have to work with witches and wizards of all kinds and from all countries. The childish rivalry between the four Hogwarts houses throws a shadow over our beloved school and is deeply rooted in the minds of our students. It hinders you from exploiting your full potential.

Therefore,” he made a theatrical pause to ensure everyone was paying attention, and gave them the kind of smile that did not bode well, “we, that is to say your heads of houses, have decided to use this opportunity to bridge the metaphorical gap. House Slytherin and house Gryffindor will, quite literally, work together hand in hand.”

For a split second, nobody reacted. Then the classroom exploded. Peter Parker fell off his chair. Loki Laufeyson made a face like he’d bitten into a lemon. Happy Hogan looked blankly at their professor. Clint Barton nearly choked on his chewing gum.

Tony’s shoulders fell. He gave Pepper a withering look. She grimaced.

“That’s unfair,” Peter Quill piped up.

“Who decided this?” Johnny Storm demanded.

“It’s still over a year until we sit our NEWTs,” Barton, the Gryffindor quidditch team’s seeker, complained after he’d gotten his breathing back under control.

“This project,” their teacher continued, ignoring his students, “is the first of its kind. It is also your chance to make new friends and to leave behind those old-fashioned grudges. These teams will be working together in Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Arythmancy, Potions, and Charms."

More agitated chattering followed this announcement.

"Sir!" A blonde Gryffindor girl stood up, her hand raised high above her head.

Professor Wong nodded at her. "Yes, Miss Danvers?"

"Some of us didn't continue with Herbology or Potions after our OWLs," she said, sounding almost hopeful, and a handful of fellow Gryffindors, and a good part of the Slytherins too, nodded.

"Not to worry, Miss Danvers," Professor Wong said, and motioned for her to sit down again. "We have made arrangements. We have taken your grades and your classes into consideration. Read the parchment I will hand you carefully, and you'll see which classes you and your new partner will be joining forces in."

More murmuring arose, both excited and doubtful. People shuffled around and clutched their bags and wands. Wong gave his class a final moment before he raised his hands to gesture for them to calm down again.

As the head of Gryffindor house, one was quick to assume that Wong had his favorites, like most teachers did, but surprisingly, he didn’t. It was the main reason why Tony respected him, next to his great skill at Transfiguration. Right now, however, he wanted to strangle the professor.

He furtively glanced at the Gryffindors in his class. He knew hardly any of them by name. Only a handful of faces rang a bell. Janet, for example, a very pretty girl, was from an old wizarding family, and Tony had met her at some of his father’s business meetings before. She was nice enough for a Gryffindor, even though she was hopeless in Potions. Jane, on the other hand, was muggle-born but a natural at Astronomy.

“I’ll call out your names, and you’ll go and sit with your new partner,” Wong continued and looked at his notes. “Let's see who's first. Ah. Parker Peter and Wilson Wade.”

Peter, the youngest of the class, blushed as he collected his things and stood up. Wilson, a notorious troublemaker and two years older than the rest of the class, tried to stuff his messy books and papers into his bag to make room for his new partner. Even though Parker was a Gryffindor, Tony would have felt bad for him if he wasn’t so nervous himself.

He bounced his foot as he watched how his fellow classmates rose upon hearing their names, packed their bags, and began to look for their new partner. It was obvious on the students' faces that nobody was really happy about this new arrangement. The girls and boys stuck to their respective housemates most of the time, so a lot of awkward staring took place as nobody really knew how to approach their new teammate.

Barton, the guy with the chewing gum, was matched with Natasha Romanoff, the Slytherin prefect. James Barnes, the Gryffindor beater, joined T’Challa Udaku, who only gave him a regal nod. Janet van Dyne partnered up with Loki Laufeyson, one of the exchange students from Durmstrang, while his brother, Thor Odinson, now shared a table with Wanda Maximoff, Natasha’s best friend.

“Potts Virginia and Wilson Sam, please,” the professor called out next.

For a second, everyone stared at Pepper, whose face rapidly took on the color of a tomato. A heartbeat passed. Then she turned her head towards Tony, who mirrored her expression when he too realized who exactly her new partner was.

It was none other than the Gryffindor beater they’d seen in the library during Christmas break, the hunk of a sixteen-year-old with skin the color of chocolate. He rose and stepped forward to accept the piece of parchment the professor handed him before he turned to look at Pepper, who had frozen in her seat.

Tony nudged her under the table, and his friend jumped. She squeaked, grabbed her bag, and squeezed past their fellow Slytherins towards the Gryffindor’s table. She was dwarfed by the guy, but Tony saw her shoulders loosen a bit when the beater gave her a polite smile. He stepped aside to offer her his seat, and they fell into awkward silence.

“Next one is Stark Anthony-”

Tony’s head spun around. He held his breath. His heart was beating in his throat. And then everything happened in slow motion.

“- and Rogers Steven.”

The whole class stared at him.

Tony’s heart sank to the bottom of the Great Lake, where a swarm of grindylows began to squeeze it until he felt it shatter. He shrank in his chair, not making any move to join Rogers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pepper give him a sympathetic look that he chose to ignore as he goggled at his teacher.

This…this couldn't be real, could it?

The Gryffindor quidditch team captain rose from his chair to accept the parchment the professor handed him and turned to join Tony, who still hadn’t moved. He stared resolutely at the burn mark on the table, determined not to meet the gaze of the one person he’d tried so hard to avoid since his return to Hogwarts.

“Tony,” Rogers said when he came to a halt in front of Tony’s table.

“Captain,” Tony answered flatly. He wondered how mad the professor would be if he transfigured himself into a dustpan.

Then, because he was a darn masochist, he looked up. There Steve was, blond and beautiful, towering above him, tall and famous and infuriating and -

Oh no, he thought as he met Rogers' gaze. His eyes were the color of the sky on a clear day, and still as breathtaking as on the day he'd broken Tony's heart.

.oOo.

Chapter Text

It was a warm afternoon, and the sun was peeking out from behind fluffy white clouds. The tips of the trees of the Forbidden Forest were swaying in the gentle breeze.

"Tony! Hey, Tony! Did you see me catch that quaffle just now?" A boy jumped off his broomstick and ran across the grass towards the stands.

He was short and skinny, his hair fair, and his cheeks rosy from the wind. His school robes hung loosely from his slender shoulders. They were a little too big for him and had a used look to them. But he wasn't bothered by it. HIs smile rivaled the light of the day.

"Professor Wong said I might have a chance to become a member of the team next year!" He bounced around in excitement, a big red ball in one hand.

Tony shoved his bag of Bertie Bott's All Flavor Beans into the pocket of his robes and jumped down the stairs that led to the stands to meet his new best friend in the middle of the quidditch pitch. He had been sitting and watching his friend fly for so long that his butt had started to hurt. He flung himself into his arms, and Steve hugged him tightly, the quaffle making things a little uncomfortable and awkward. Neither of them cared.

"Wow, that's crazy, Steve," Tony exclaimed ecstatic, jumping up and down in sync with his friend. "I'm sure you’ll get on the team!"

Steve released him, and Tony saw wonder shining in his impossibly blue eyes. "Imagine it, Tony! In a month, I'll be twelve. When we start our second year in September, I’ll finally be allowed to try and become keeper!”

"Steve, that's awesome! I'll cheer you on!" Tony promised. He wanted to hug him again but held back, feeling like that might be a bit too much.

"Really?" Steve's eyes became as round as galleons. He clutched his broomstick to his chest as if he needed to hold onto something because he couldn't believe his own ears. "You'll cheer me on? Even though you're a Slytherin and I'm a Gryffindor? You're not bothered by it?"

Tony's grin was so big that his cheeks hurt. If someone had told him that he’d meet his future best friend on his first day of school, he'd have laughed in their face. Tony didn't make friends. He was a loner, a Stark, and a Slytherin. He was stubborn, smart, sassy, and worked best if left to his own devices. He had a big name hanging over his head and even bigger footsteps to follow in.

But Steve didn't seem to care. He didn't ask about his blood status or his family tree, didn't judge him based on what others had heard about Tony or his family. He had wormed his way into Tony’s heart with his bright smile and his incredible cheerfulness, and he thanked his lucky star that Steve had found his way to Tony’s train compartment half a year ago. To Steve Tony was just that: Tony.

"Jinx my heart!” Tony promised and raised a fist. He stuck his little finger out, and Steve immediately took it with his own. “You're my best friend, Steve. Who cares about houses anyway?"

This time, it was Steve who flung himself into Tony's arms, and Tony never ever wanted to let go.

.oOo.

“Tony? Tony, hey. Do you have a moment?"

Tony feigned deafness and hurried out of the classroom. He didn't turn around to look behind him. Hissing and snide remarks followed him as he squeezed through the throngs of students. Someone pushed him hard in the ribs, but he couldn't make out who it'd been, and he didn't fancy waiting around.

"Looks like we'll be working together from now on.”

Tony wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. Maybe, if he only closed his eyes hard enough, he'd wake up to find out that he'd fallen asleep in History of Magic, and that Steve Rogers sitting next to him was nothing but a bad dream. Nobody would stare at him. Nobody would care.

He rounded a corner and slipped behind a tapestry showing two trolls wearing tutu skirts to hide in the secret staircase that led up to the Arythmancy classroom. He pressed back against the stone wall and listened as the footsteps became louder, stopped, and vanished again. He waited another two minutes until he could be sure that the person who’d followed him had left for good.

Tony closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. Immediately, the image of Steve Rogers staring at him appeared in his mind. He took a deep breath. The cold air in the hidden passageway smelled of dust and moss. Tony counted to ten, then slipped out again. Looking left and right, he made sure that the coast was clear before he hoisted his backpack up higher and contemplated his options.

It was lunchtime. Most students were in the Great Hall, enjoying stew, pasta, bread, fresh tea, and pumpkin juice. But not Tony. The moment the bell had rung to signal the end of class, Tony had grabbed his things and fled the room. In response to Pepper’s confused face, he’d claimed to have forgotten to finish his Astronomy homework. It was a lame excuse, and they both knew it. But Pepper had let him go, and Tony was grateful for it.

It was the first day of the first inter house collaboration Hogwarts had ever hosted. 

A week had passed since the fateful Transfiguration class in which Tony’s life had been turned on its head. One week, seven days, of thinking about none other than Steve Rogers.

Tony shoved his cold hands into the pockets of his school robes and trudged down the familiar corridors to the back of the castle. His feet knew the way, and before he noticed it, he’d reached the oak doors that led out to the school yard. For a moment, he hesitated at the sight of the slowly falling snow, but with Rogers still out there, looking for him, becoming a snowman seemed preferable.

He stepped out into the open, and a gust of cold wind blew some ice into his face. He blinked, wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck, and started off into the direction of the vegetable patch. The remaining pumpkins looked a little lost, sitting in the snow like someone had forgotten them. Behind them, small clouds of hot steam issued from the cracked windows of the greenhouses.

Tony had another thirty minutes before his next class. But sitting among the singing hydrangea bushes sounded much more tempting than the Great Hall right now, where all the Gryffindors would stare at him like he was a three-headed dog – even if it meant sharing his meager chocolate frog lunch with some flobberworms.

He pushed the door open and was immediately engulfed by the smell of plants, soil, and dragon dung, their professor’s favorite fertilizer. Vines and tendrils hung from the ceiling, leaves in all colors of the rainbow stretched towards the light, and the air hummed with life. Amidst the greenery stood a lonely figure.

Tony’s teacher turned around, and he was met with a gentle smile. “Tony,” he greeted him. He put the sample of oxypetalum sap down and leaned on his table. “You’re here early.”

“Professor B,” Tony replied, surprised. “You are back already?”

Bruce Banner took off his glasses to wipe them on his shabby robes. He looked tired, like always, but gave Tony a smile that made the skin around his eyes crinkle. He was young for a professor, but his hair was already graying, and he was constantly on the brink of passing out. It might be because he was a true workaholic or because he spent a whole week each month gazing at the moon.

Professor Banner was a werewolf.

He was something of a celebrity at Hogwarts. Him becoming a teacher had been all over the papers a few years ago. Years before, Bruce Banner had fallen for the one woman that would have almost cost him his freedom and his life: Betty Ross, the only daughter of the infamous Thaddeus Ross, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Mr Ross – claiming that Banner was unhinged and a threat to the magical community – had tried to throw him into Azkaban, which forced the werewolf to leave his home country. He had been on the run for almost two years when he'd resurfaced in London again. It was thanks to the headmaster, Professor Fury, who had put his foot down, that Banner was given the position as teacher for Herbology on the condition that he'd spend the nights of the full moon under lock and key in the dungeons.

Banner had agreed without second thought. Soon after, he had taken over as the head of Tony’s house.

Professor Banner was one of Tony’s favorite teachers, despite his – in Tony’s opinion – boring subject.

“I am back, as you can see,” Banner told him. “Professor Strange brewed an extra strong potion for me to get back on my feet. I am lucky to have such a competent colleague.”

Tony snorted. “The old bat,” he mumbled. Professor Banner raised a reprimanding eyebro,  and Tony ducked his head.

“Is there a reason for your visi,  or are you hiding again?” Professor Banner asked and turned back to his beloved plants.

Tony sighed, dropped his backpack on the dirty floor, and threw himself into the chair by the Professor’s table. He crossed his arms on the table and watched the professor work.

Professor Banner knew about Tony’s dilemma . When things had gone south two years ago, Tony had spent a lot of his lunch breaks in the green houses. Pepper had still gone to Ilvermorney back then, and his second best friend, James Rhodes, had already left Hogwarts to become an auror. Tony had been on his own, and Bruce Banner had proven to be a good listener.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked his teacher.

Professor Banner smiled. “Follow your instructions,” he said, already knowing what Tony was talking about. “I am your teache,  after all, even though you seem to forget this quite often.”

Tony scowled. “So you want me to act like Rogers is not a big broomstick obsessed buffoon? Like nothing happened? I'm supposed to pretend the idiot didn't -” Professor Banner raised a single finger in warning, and he swallowed his words. “Sorry. Sir,” Tony added quietly.

Banner sighed. He put his tools away, took off his glasses, and began to clean them on the hem of his shabby robes once again. It was one of his many nervous ticks.

“Overcoming these childish grudges and the rivalry between the houses is exactly why we teachers decided that it was time for a cross-house collaboration,” Banner explained. “Two years have passed since you and Steve -” Tony winced. “- fell out with each other. He might regret what happened. But you refuse to speak to him and grant him the opportunity to make amends. Did Professor Wong tell you that it was I who suggested that the two of you would be paired up?”

Tony jumped from his chair so fast that it fell backwards. The big Mimosa bush behind him hid its petals in fright. The feeling of betrayal rose in Tony's throat. He stared at his teacher. "What? Why did you do that? I can't work with him. That's impossible. He hates my guts. I'm the evil Slytherin to him and his cronies, and you know it."

Professor Banner's hands stilled for a moment. He put one on Tony's shoulder and squeezed it briefly. "I apologize for causing you pain, Tony. But it is my belief that this is not true. I had high hopes that the year you spent abroad might have helped you mature."

Tony shrugged the professor's hand off. “He’s no longer the same.”

“Neither are you,” Banner replied. He bent down to sciop the chair up. “I’m not saying you should forget what happened. I’m merely suggesting you try to make the best of what you’re given.” A shadow crossed over his young face and for a moment Tony could see the wolf in his eyes. Quietly he added, “stop running away, Tony.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I’m not running away. I just don't want to fight again.”

“So you admit defeat?” the professor asked and replaced his glasses on his nose.

“I am not admitting defeat," Tony insisted, petulant.

"That means you are happy with how things are."

"That's not what I said."

Banner leaned back against his table. "Then why are you so scared of Steve Rogers? Why are you so scared of the possibility that Steve might apologize to you?"

Tony opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. Banner was smiling at him, and he realized he had fallen into the professor's trap.

Was Tony scared of Steve Rogers?

No, he wasn’t scared. He was a lot of things – hurt, flustered, confused, betrayed, embarrassed, annoyed – but scared was not one of them. He didn’t like how things were between them right now. He didn't like the tension that immediately settled in his belly when he saw Steve come closer, or the nerves, or the heat that crawled up his neck.

Throughout the year he spent in the United States, Tony had tried to let go of Steve Rogers. He'd attended a school without houses, without rivalry, and without his doubtful reputation. He'd started anew. He'd made great friends. He'd enjoyed his time at Ilvermorney. But he'd missed Hogwarts. He'd missed walking down the ancient corridors, the hidden passageways, the high book shelves in the library, the trick steps, the pumpkin patch near the gamekeeper's hut. Tony had even missed the poltergeist singing indecent Christmas carols from inside the empty armors and the Moaning Myrtle wailing in the pipes.

But there was no Hogwarts without the memory of Steve and what had happened between them.

Flushing, Tony stood up, grabbed his backpack, and stomped to the door. He glared at the professor. “You play dirty.”

Professor Banner looked at his dirty robes and hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tony didn't stay to listen. He ran back to the castle, knowing that Banner might give him lines for his snarky behavior in his next Herbology class, but he didn’t care.

His backpack hit his back hard with each step but he didn't stop. If he hurried, he might manage to get to the owlery before the bell rang. He had a letter to send.

.oOo.

Tony took off his glasses and hissed when Steve put the wet towel to his red face. "You should really go and see Professor Fury. Or Dr Cho in the hospital wing."

Tony shook his head minutely. He sniffed and scooted into the corner of the couch in the most secluded part of the library. The presence of books and the lack of noise were soothing. "No. It's nothing."

Steve bristled. Two red blotches appeared high on his pale cheeks. He squeezed into the small space between Tony and the pillow. "It's not nothing! Tell me who did it, and I'll jinx them!"

Tony chuckled but immediately winced when the motion pulled painfully on his swollen cheek. "Don't, Steve. You'll get detention for it. It's not worth it. It's just a bruised cheek. You looked much worse after your first quidditch match last fall."

Steve pressed his lips together, clearly unhappy. Tony felt heat rise to his cheeks. He liked it very much when Steve was this protective of him. He also would have liked to tell him what had happened, but he was scared. Scared that Steve might look at him with the same disgusted look on his face as Justin Hammer.

It had been Tony's fault, after all.

Justin had changed into his brand new quidditch robes in the middle of the Slytherin common room. He was tall for someone in their second year at Hogwarts, and all the girls from their class, and even some of the third-years, had looked at him. Justin had enjoyed the attention very much.

But he’d caught Tony staring at him too, and later, in the corridor behind the Charms classroom, he had made it clear that he did not like the attention if it didn’t come from a girl. Tony wondered if Steve would have minded Tony staring at him. He didn’t ask. He didn’t dare to. But he wanted to. He really wanted to.

“Here.” Steve’s voice pulled Tony from his thoughts. He’d fished two presents from his bag and placed them in Tony’s lap while Tony had been busy staring holes into the air. They were wrapped in blue paper with tiny silver stars on it. A red bow completed the picture. “Happy thirteenth birthday, Tony.”

Tony looked at the gifts, and fresh tears started gathering in the corners of his eyes. Quickly, he tore the paper away. The first present revealed a big bag of Bertie Bott's All Flavor Beans. He opened the box and put some of the beans in his mouth. The taste of chocolate, broccoli, and bacon exploded on his tongue and he had to smile. Steve knew him too well.

The second gift turned out to be a picture. It was handmade. Tony would bet his wand that Steve had drawn himself. It was black and white and didn't move, like a muggle drawing. It was a simple pencil sketch of a serpent curled up on top of a lion’s head. It was them. It was Steve and Tony, Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was amazing.

“Thank you, Steve,” Tony whispered and turned around to bury his face in his best friend’s shoulder. Having Steve here with him…this was the best gift he could have asked for.

.oOo.

Chapter Text

“Slytherins are the worst.”

“Be quiet. He can hear you.”

“So what? Hey, Stark, be careful so you don’t slip.”

Tony had just enough time to catch himself on the wall of the dungeon before he fell face first to the floor. The Hufflepuff who had tripped him shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and grinned. His friends snickered. Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Is that your best pick-up line?” he asked the other sixth-year, straightening up. He cocked an eyebrow and gave the stupid git his most lascive smile. “If you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask nicely.”

The girls shrieked at the innuendo, and the boy’s face took on the color of a tomato. Satisfied, Tony didn’t wait for him to come up with a comeback before he turned around and left in the direction of the staircase.

It was another icy day at Hogwarts. Winter was doing its best to turn the castle into an igloo. Tony had been grateful for the fires that had crackled merrily beneath the cauldrons. Potions wasn’t his favorite subject – neither was Professor Strange his favorite teacher – but it was the warmest classroom in winter.

Instead of moss and stone, it had smelled of the potions that the sixth-years had been preparing, of licorice and pine cones. Purple steam had curled around the legs of tables and students alike, clogged the air, and obscured the view. The potions had hissed and bubbled loudly. The clattering of tools and the concentrated murmuring of students had filled the room. Professor Strange’s red cloak had swished over the floor as he stalked down the rows of tables.

When the bell had rang, Steve had left the dungeon, surrounded by a giggling throng of Gryffindors.

Tony felt a sting somewhere in the region of his bellybutton.

He glanced at his watch and then at the note he'd found in his bag during lesson.

Meet me in the owlery. Please.

Tony knew the handwriting almost as well as his own. He'd nearly messed up his potion, too busy thinking about the six neatly written words. Strange had threatened him with a week's worth of detention if he caused another cauldron to explode. As if he'd do it intentionally.

He glanced at his watch again as if it would now tell him more than just the time. Thirty seconds had ticked by. He had a free period, which gave him an opportunity to get some work done. He knew he ought to use the time to continue with his essay for Professor Hill on the patronus charm. But he also knew that he’d be staring at the parchment with an empty brain and blank eyes again, thinking about everything but homework.

He’d be thinking about Steve Rogers again and the stupid note and his stupid smile and his stupid face and his stupid fanclub and-

Before he knew it, Tony found himself climbing the stairs to the owlery. Sighing, he resigned himself to his fate, thinking that he could at least use the opportunity to look for his owl.

Dummy still hadn’t returned. He knew that the owl couldn’t be back yet. The journey to the US would take him at least another week, if not more. Still, he found himself looking for his feathery friend each morning when the post arrived and the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall buzzed with hundreds of birds.

A group of third-years, none of them Slytherins, threw him suspicious glances when he passed them on the way upstairs. They squeezed together as if afraid he’d attack them.

Slytherins are the worst.

Tony gritted his teeth.

The floor of the owlery was covered in straw and owl droppings. Ice crystals crunched beneath Tony’s soles when he followed the worn path into the high, circular room. A chilly breeze made Tony’s teeth clatter. Snowflakes formed small mountains on the open window sills. Sleepy amber eyes stared at him from the dark corners of the room. The only sound came from the wind and the rustling of feathers when an owl stretched its wings before it went back to sleep.

Tony scanned the perches.

“Dummy?” he called quietly.

Instead of the soft hooting he had hoped for, a human voice answered him.

“He’s not here.”

Tony jumped a foot into the air and nearly hit his head on a low supporting beam. He whirled around to stare at the culprit who had nearly given him a heart attack.

Hidden in the shadows of the alcove that opened to the Dark Forest, a boy sat on the straw. He’d blended perfectly with his surroundings, wrapped in his black school robes and his hands covered by thick dragon skin gloves. He pushed the hat he wore against the cold back to reveal a stray strand of his fair hair.

“Steve,” Tony heard himself say.

“Tony.”

Steve Rogers’ breath formed little clouds in the cold air. He had a notebook open on his knees and a pencil in his hand. He was sketching. A half finished picture adorned the paper. Curious despite himself, Tony inclined his head, but Steve closed the book before he could make out what it showed. Rustling drew Tony’s eye, and he saw that an owl was sleeping on the Gryffindor’s shoulder. It was –

“Butterfingers,” Tony said.

Dummy’s younger brother blinked sleepily at him. He was Tony’s second owl and a little less reliable on long journeys, which was the reason why Tony usually sent Dummy. He hooted softly, puffed his feathers, and snuggled into Steve’s side instead of welcoming his owner. Tony glared at his owl. Traitor.

Steve followed Tony’s gaze. “It’s been a while since I saw him. He recognized me immediately.” He gently stroked the owl's head, and Tony knew that Butterfingers would have purred if he could.

"You came," Steve continued when Tony didn't manage to open his mouth.

Tony awkwardly cleared his throat and averted his gaze. Looking at the floor was a much better option than looking at Steve’s impossibly blue eyes, eyes the color of the sky.

“Yeah…”

He clenched and unclenched his hands. His arms felt way too big for his body, and his hands must look so stupid. He shoved them into his pockets and suppressed the urge to shuffle his feet.

“You’re not going to run away again?”

The question caught Tony off guard even though he should have seen it coming. The truth was that he really wanted to. But he’d rather kiss a flobberworm than admit it. While Steve and him had been named partners for all future projects of the term, Tony had, until this point, successfully avoided having to actually work with the Gryffindor.

In the fortnight that had passed since Professor Wong had dropped the bomb on his class, the teachers had all worked really hard to get their students to bridge the gaps between the houses. But the centuries had worn deep trenches between the houses that were being handed down from generation to generation. Each boy and girl knew that Gryffindors were brave, Ravenclaws smart, Hufflepuffs loyal, and Slytherins sneaky even before they crossed the threshold of the castle for the first time.

This whole cross-house collaboration was a farce in Tony's eyes.

He shrugged in lieu of answering. “Give me a reason.”

“That’s…not how it used to be,” Steve whispered.

Tony forced his freezing feet to move. He walked down the rows of perches and looked at the dozens of different owls. Big ones, small ones, exotic ones, some with brown eyes, some with amber eyes. Most were sleeping with their heads beneath their wings, but here and there, a big, round eye watched him.

“Things changed,” he answered in the end. The conversation was making him antsy.

“You changed,” Steve retorted. He was looking at Tony again, his gaze burning. “You’re no longer who you were when you…when we…”

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Images from what felt ages ago rose to the forefront of Tony's mind. A long corridor, glittering icicles, the smell of gingerbread and butterbeer, and the sounds of dancing couples and the shattering of Tony's heart.

“Neither are you,” Tony shot back. He could feel his hackles rise, and he hated it.

“That’s true,” Steve admitted. He hadn’t moved from his place on the straw, and Tony wondered if he wasn't cold.

He scrunched up his nose. The complete length of the room separated them, and yet he imagined he could feel Steve Rogers’ proximity on his skin as if he were standing right beside him. Like it used to be. Like they used to be.

“I missed you.”

Tony blinked stupidly at Rogers.

“When you left Hogwarts to go to the United States,” Steve elaborated. He’d stopped petting Butterfingers, and the pencil lay forgotten on the notebook. “I missed my best friend. The castle was no longer the same without you. It was too quiet. I missed your laugh, and I missed, well, everything.”

Heat rose in Tony’s chest, and shapeless emotions started to writhe in his gut. He could no longer feel his cold feet, his hands, his nose. He couldn’t even feel his own heartbeat.

"You don't need me. You have other friends now. Better friends. You have a fanclub." Tony's voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

You have friends who are not Slytherins , he added in his head.

“Tony,” Steve paused, and for the first time, he looked insecure. Then he said, “they don’t know me the way you do.”

“That’s right,” Tony said, his voice as cold as the snow beneath his feet. “Because I don’t. I thought I did. Maybe it’s for the better that we changed.”

“Tony…” Steve said, and there was something painful in the way Tony’s name rolled off his tongue and something painfully familiar. “Tony, they are not you.”

A gust of wind blew snowflakes and ice through the cracked windows, and the air sang with the sounds of winter. With loud flapping noises, a flock of owls soared past Tony and obscured his view of the Gryffindor for all of two seconds. When the owls had vanished, Tony didn’t know what to feel. He stared at the ground again.

“Maybe I don’t want to be me,” he said evasively. Then he shook his head. “Let's just get this stupid assignment over and done with. It’s only one term, and then-”

"I'm sorry."

The words were almost drowned by the familiar screeching of Butterfingers.

Tony stared at Steve. His ears were burning, his tongue was heavy in his mouth, and his stupid heart was beating hard in his chest. One hand already on the handrail, he pushed his glasses up his nose with the other.

When their eyes met, Tony knew that coming here had been a mistake. Because he realized that he wasn’t over his best friend.

“Me too,” he whispered before he exited the owlery, leaving behind a smiling Steve.

.oOo.

“I just wished you’d told me sooner,” Steve said, shuffling his feet. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Tony mumbled. He had his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to shield himself. From what, he didn’t know.

They were standing on top of the staircase that led up to the North Tower to get to their Divination class. The subject was absolut unicornshit in Tony’s opinion, and he wished he’d paid more attention to what subjects the school was offering for his third year. The only silver lining was that Steve had taken almost the same subjects as him. That way, they could at least despair over their homework together.

“All I want to say is that I would have preferred to hear it directly from you. And not have Rumlow tell everyone in school that he saw you and Johnny Storm k-kiss behind the greenhouses.” Steve stumbled over the word ‘kiss’. He cleared his throat and blinked at his shoes. His cheeks were flushed.

Tony watched him for a moment.

Steve had changed since they had become friends. The healthy, regular meals and the care of Dr Cho, the matron, had started to make an impact. Puberty was doing the rest, not to mention that quidditch practice also paid off. He was now a few inches taller than Tony, if still thin as a stick. His face was losing its roundness. His hands grew stronger. He was no longer the eleven year old boy whom Tony had met on the Hogwarts express two years ago.

“Sorry,” Tony said again. He shifted his bag up higher on his shoulder. “I guess I was just…afraid.”

“Afraid?” Steve echoed, puzzled. He raised his face.

Tony nodded. Now it was him who couldn’t meet Steve’s gaze. “I thought about telling you, but...I didn’t want you to…to…to look at me like the others. Like I’m sick, or contagious, or something like that. It's bad enough that they avoid me because I'm a Slytherin. And I never planned for Rumlow to see us.”

“Tony, you idiot,” Steve said, and Tony looked up to find him smiling at him. His smile hadn’t changed, and neither had his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes. “I never cared that you are in Slyhterin, didn't I? And neither do I care that you're into Johnny. You will always be my best friend.”

"Really?" Tony whispered.

“Jinx my heart," Steve reassured him. "I might not, well, understand it. Being in love with a, uh, a guy, I mean,” he clarified awkwardly. "But you're still you, aren't you?"

Tony pushed his glasses up his nose to give his hands something to do. Half of him wanted to cry in relief, and the other half wanted to cry in desperation. “Thanks, Steve. That…that means a lot.”

“Don’t sweat it, Tony.” Steve pushed himself off the wall and pulled Tony into a one-armed hug that Tony eagerly returned. Being hugged by Steve like this felt more than just good. His scent filled Tony’s nose, and a painful knot formed in his belly.

Tony knew what he wanted. It had taken him a long time to realize it, and even longer to accept it. He wanted Steve to kiss him. Giving Johnny his first kiss hadn't been one of Tony’s most brilliant ideas. Johnny was a cool guy, no question, but he was no Steve. Steve was reliable, kind, and everything anyone could ever wish for. He was handsome too, in his own, amazing way. Other called him scrawny. Tony called him beautiful. At least in his own head.

But Tony also knew that Steve would never see him the way he saw Steve. Steve liked girls, the way all normal boys should, and Tony was neither normal nor a girl. He was grateful that Steve hadn't punched him the moment he had found out. Steve still saw him as his friend. Tony had his friendship. And if this was all he would get, he would damn well enjoy it to the fullest.

Tony hugged Steve a little tighter before he released him. Together, arm in arm, they made their way over to the silver step ladder that led up to their Divination classroom.

“You know,” Tony mused, trying to keep his cool, “I could help you out if you want to practice. Give you some advice on kissing if you ever feel like confessing to Carter. All you have to do is ask.” He made a kissy face at Steve and poked him in the side.

Steve’s face took on the color of a tomato, and he stumbled over his own feet. “Shut up, idiot,” he cursed, laughing all the while. “I don’t like her that way!”

“Is that so?” Tony teased back, trying to keep his voice light and easy. “I saw your sketchbook, loverboy. It’s full of pictures of her.”

Tony forced a laugh he hoped sounded convincing when Steve chased him up the ladder, but it sounded hollow. If his best friend noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes, he didn’t mention it.